


Noble Regret

by Telaryn



Series: The Tale of Eliot Spencer and Ellen Harvelle [22]
Category: Leverage, Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol, Comfort, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-21
Updated: 2012-05-21
Packaged: 2017-11-23 19:20:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/625670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Telaryn/pseuds/Telaryn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nate checks on Eliot after the hitter receives word of Ellen's death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Noble Regret

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://www.dreamwidth.org/profile?user=angst_bingo)[](http://www.dreamwidth.org/profile?user=angst_bingo)**angst_bingo** 's Round 3, for the prompt "fear of being alone".

“Your friends left.”

Eliot glanced up at Nate – he had no idea how long he’d been sitting there, staring blankly at nothing in particular. “Not surprised.” Exhaling softly, he forced himself to get to his feet. “I need a drink.”

It wasn’t until he’d reached the bar at the far end of the poker room that Eliot realized he’d left Ellen’s letter behind. When he turned around again, Nate was holding the crumpled envelope in his hands looking thoughtful. “Bad news?” he asked.

Eliot grabbed two shot glasses, and the first bottle he saw that looked like it might be whisky. “Not…surprised,” he said again, pouring for each of them and raising one of the glasses questioningly at Nate.

The mastermind joined him at the bar. “You two were good together, you know.” He set the envelope on the bar, as if to punctuate his statement.

 _Ellen’s kitchen._ She and Sam had operated on him there, digging a sniper’s bullet out of his shoulder – but it had been Nate who’d kept him from bleeding to death in those first crucial moments. “Did I ever thank you for saving my life that time?” he asked, smiling ruefully.

Nate took a sip of his whisky. “As I recall, you threatened to kill me to keep me from telling anyone where you were.” He glanced down at the envelope lying between them. “What happened?”

Eliot threw back his shot and savored the feel of the burn blazing down his throat. “She died.” He swallowed, lowering the glass and struggling to keep his emotions under control. “She and Jo were on a hunt – things went wrong.” He suspected he could have told Nate the whole story, but saying it himself would make it true and he wasn’t ready to do that.

_Not yet…_

“The letter’s from her though?” Nate asked.

Eliot’s smile was more genuine now, as he set his hand protectively over the paper. “Drunken 3am ramblings,” he said, “written the night before she died.” He sighed, meeting Nate’s eyes again. “Apparently I was one of the last things she ever thought about, and I’m standing here now trying to figure out what I’m supposed to do with that.”

The worry line between Nate’s brows deepened. “How come you left? When we saw each other that time it looked like you were settling in for the long haul.” He smiled softly. “And it looked to me like the lady wouldn’t have minded a bit.”

Now Eliot did feel the threat of grief crowding close. “It was never going to work,” he said, refilling their glasses. “I was kidding myself. Stayed too long as it was.” He’d ignored so many warning signs when he was with Ellen – including ones that had put her at direct physical risk – because things made sense when he was with her. The world was right when he was with her.

Nate put a hand on his wrist, keeping him from tossing off the second glass. “You did the best you could with what you had,” he said. “This wasn’t your fault.”

Eliot had a moment where he was torn between wanting to hit his friend and collapse with the weight of his grief, trusting Nate to keep him safe. In the end he did neither, choosing once again to walk the middle road. “After she and Jo went out on the road, I thought about tracking her down again. Too much had happened by then though.”

He slipped free of Nate’s hold then, and tossed off his second glass. “Yes, I was worried she wouldn’t be able to ignore everything I’d done,” he said; his voice hoarse from the shots. Nate said nothing, sliding up onto one of the bar stools and taking another sip of his own whisky.

They sat together in silence for a while. Finally Nate said, “That’s an excuse – you know that, right?” He sighed. “I know I was only with you two for a few hours, but she knew who you were – what you’d done. You could have stayed.”

Memory of that last day came flooding back; crossing paths with somebody who had no business being there… _seeing how he looked at Ellen…_ Eliot had left the next morning before sunrise, making a very public and splashy return to Europe and the underworld that had been his home before wandering into a rundown bar in Nowheres-ville, Nebraska. “The price would have been too high,” he admitted. “I only stayed as long as I did because I was afraid of losing what we had.” He poured himself a third glass, but held off shooting it. “I was selfish.”

“It’s not selfish to want to be with somebody you love,” Nate said quietly. “Nobody wants to be alone.”

Eliot smiled bitterly. “It is selfish if fear of being alone gets the person you love killed.”


End file.
